9. Princess Esemeray #2
Her mother scoffed.
In the corner of Esemeray’s eye, she could see her mother staring down at the brothers with disgust, causing a pit to form in her stomach.
Killian squared his shoulders. “To gather information on a missing person.”
Esemeray brought her fingernails to her mouth, bracing herself for what Killian was about to declare.
“And whom may that be?” her father questioned, scratching his beard, his eyes betraying his interest.
A muscle in Killian’s jaw flickered, and then something like sympathy passed through his eyes. “Your daughter, Princess Elora.”
Esemeray’s chest tightened, hands clenching to her sides.
The room spun faster than a spinning top.
Hundreds of faces below her morphed into blobs.
The dancing colors and the gold trailing on the marble floor swirled in front of her, playing with her mind.
Forcing a breath, and another, Esemeray willed her mind to calm, but it did no such thing.
None of it made sense. Her father had given up the search for Elora. Everyone had given up.
Gasps filled the room once more.
“I said silence!” her father bellowed, banging his lion staff on the floor.
She could feel the necklace starting to react, just as it did last night with Peter. She dropped her gaze to the floor, trying to hide the pain from the fire coursing through her chest.
Breathe.
Her mother laughed wickedly. “Is that so?”
Breathe.
“You know, I am offended you didn’t reach out sooner.” Killian’s voice faded in and out. “After all, we are the best hunters.”
Breathe.
“I only hire within my kingdom.” Her father’s voice was barely audible over her drumming heart.
Breathe.
Stop burning me.
And just like that. One simple command, and the fire stopped.
Esemeray, finally steadied, and willed herself to look up. Her breath caught, brows raising. Riggs was still staring, but his smirk was replaced with a look of concern as if he noticed her struggling—hurting. His forehead creased, brows furrowed, and he slightly nodded toward her.
She sucked in a sharp breath and forced a subtle nod back, one her mother would not notice.
“Riggs Whitlock, what business did you have with my daughter, Princess Esemeray?” her father asked, interlacing his fingers together over his lap.
Esemeray stiffened, embarrassment consuming her as all eyes gravitated toward her.
Riggs met her father’s stare, his throat bobbing. “Your Majesty, I was simply conversing with a woman who was attending your gala. I meant no harm.” He bowed his head. “I did not know she was the princess.”
Esemeray paled, her limbs sinking into the chair. This was my doing.
Her father waved his hand in the air, seething. He cleared his throat, then addressed Killian. “Killian Whitlock, you will serve time until I decide a fitting punishment for your crime.”
Killian rose and the guards lunged for him. The king stopped the guards with a single finger. “Stand down.” He met Killian’s gaze, curious if the man’s reputation was earned. “Go on.”
Killian grit his teeth toward the king. “What if I strike a deal with you?”
Her father adjusted in his throne, leaning forward. “You assaulted Lord Donnavan, stole his clothes, and left him bruised and naked in the stairwell. I say you are lucky you get to plead your case.”
“Would you like to hear my offer?” Killian’s voice echoed.
The room went silent.
Her father nodded for him to continue. Killian adjusted his stance and cleared his throat.
“Nothing I say will justify my actions.” A half-smile danced on his lips.
“And my heart goes to Lord Donnavan. I do hope he is healing nicely…and keeping his hands to himself.” He went silent for a moment, then said with confidence, “In exchange for my freedom, I am offering my services to find your daughter.” He cleared his throat.
“Let’s be honest, I’m more useful out in the world than in here. ”
Every single person her father sent out never returned, or failed and paid the price.
Esemeray curiously turned toward her parents.
Her mother was still wearing that look of disgust, and her father was considering it. She had seen that look before. Heat coursed through her body, her nerves buzzing like annoying flying insects.
Her father cleared his throat. “I have made my decision,” he declared, banging his staff on the ground, “Killian Whitlock, will earn your freedom under one condition.”
It was too quiet. Even her mother stopped clicking her tongue.
“You will bring my daughter back, dead, or alive. Or rot in my dungeon if you fail. You have seven months.”
Killian nodded, side-glancing Riggs. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Her father added, “If you are thinking about running, just know I have the best guards on the continent. You will be trailed and watched. No matter how far you are, they will find you.” Killian gave a subtle nod.
Esemeray inhaled sharply. Then why haven’t they found Elora? She knew her father was bluffing, trying to make himself seem less of a failure.
“As for you, Riggs Whitlock, if you are ever seen near my daughter, if you even do as little as speak to her, so help me gods, you will be executed,” her father stated, his tone stern.
Esemeray’s chest heaved. Panic swirled through her like a vicious windstorm.
Riggs stood, his hands bunching at his sides. His face a shade lighter, the vein on his neck protruding as if he were holding his breath. “Yes, Your Majesty, understood.” His voice was thick with dismay.
Disappointment flooded her. Uncontrollable pressure built behind her eyes. She blinked, her vision blurring.
Do not cry.
Her father banged his staff thrice in dismissal, and Esemeray flinched every time. “Captain Rutherford, please escort them out of my sight and off the premises immediately.”
She couldn’t control the single tear that escaped as she watched Riggs disappear behind the doors.
Every flicker of light had to be snuffed out, smothered by darkness like everything else in her life.